Morgan's Taboo Trysts
by The Ruff Pusher
Summary: The tales of Morgan's forbidden relationships with his various siblings, across the many dimensions. mature/pwp/incest Chapter 1: Lucina
1. Chapter 1

**Note: This story is a work of fiction. It has many content of adult nature, including incest. If you do not want to read such content, please close your browser window or press the convenient back button.  
**

* * *

 **My Lover the Exalt**

Morgan braced himself for what was coming. Yet even as he tried to maintain a harsh rigid figure, he could not defend himself well. The sword-strike flashed before his eyes, quicker than lightning, and he fell on his behind with a painful grunt. When he next opened his eyes, it was to stare into the tip of the practice sword.

Looming over him, Lucina grinned. "Five out of five. It is my win, brother."

"Means nothing," Morgan grumbled. With a final, superior grin, his half-sister sauntered over to the tree trunk where they'd laid their belongings. There were enough supplies for a brief camping tour, bedrolls, blankets, and a few other oddities besides.

Morgan looked up, brushing his blue hair out of his eyes as he stared beyond the canopy of trees surrounding them into the sunny sky above. The forest surrounded them, hemming in this clearing like it was a private room in the Palace. Nearby, there was a convenient stream, its trickling like a faint murmur in the background.

Lucina returned, bringing a carafe of water. He rose to his feet and accepted the drink with thanks, refreshing himself after yet another gruelling bout of practice. He had nothing to complain about, honestly, in terms of his blatant inferiority at swordplay when compared to his sibling or dad. They were monsters, a cut above the rest of them.

Still...

"And with that," said Lucina, crudely wiping the water from her lips with the back of her hand without an ounce of royal manners, "Let's begin the punishment game, eh?"

Morgan groaned. "Can't we do this later? The sun's still up. Who knows-" He stopped, when his sister had sidled closer, her victorious grin never fading, and something keen and animal-like glinting in her eyes. She pressed her humble mounds, still moist from the mockfight, into his arm, and wrapped her lithe but strong arms around his shoulder.

"A deal's a deal, dear brother," Lucina whispered cockily. "The one to win can do whatever they want to the loser. Whatever. They. Want." She punctuated each word with a brief peck on the area below his ear, each puff of her breath there sending shivers down his spine.

Morgan sighed, resigned to the worst. He undid his trousers, letting them fall to the ground. He was now naked from the waist down, with his cloak the only thing veiling his nakedness from the world.

"That's better," Lucina murmured, now running her hands all over his chest. "Father gave me the responsibility to protect my little brother in anyway I can. And that means I have to make you take your training seriously. A perfect straight loss isn't good, Morgan. It makes big sister oh so worried..."

Morgan didn't bother to point out how in the past five matches, he'd been supremely distracted by the outfit his sister wore. It was basically a battle-"bikini", one of those undergarment styles gaining fame in the Ylissean fashion world for their very risque design. Lucina wore knee-high boots, and leather gauntlets (which she'd now removed), but that was all. The thin strips of leather barely held her modest bust from jiggling, distracting him with every move she made. And the very suggestive thong, practically running t-shaped through her very shapely ass, which sent his concentration reeling whenever she did a pirouette to strike. In hindsight, Morgan strongly believed such risky behavior on her part was deliberate. All to lead him down to a straight loss.

Although Morgan couldn't say he'd be distracted at all if it wasn't his half-sister doing the distracting. He had long explored every contour and slope, every nook and cranny of his sibling's body, and her actions had only made to summon past images of their coupling to divert his attention from the battles. How he'd kneaded her ass as he took her urgently and violently behind the pegasus stables on the last night before the final battle, not knowing if either of them would survive. Or of their secret congresses at the Palace, stealing kisses and more in the moments between Morgan and Lucina's meetings with various dignitaries.

Anyone trying to tell them it was a taboo would be firmly rebuffed. Their love had long bloomed beyond the thrill of the forbidden, had bloomed all the way in their past, in the future, when all they had was each other. Of course, to be prudent, neither of them had revealed their secret, which necessitated days like these where the couple would take vacation days to secluded places.

Pressing the practice sword to his hand, Lucina took position behind him and held his wrists as his hands wrapped around the handle. Her breasts were pressed firmly to his back. "I've seen that you've still got a problem with the basics. You have to hold your sword firmly by the handle, as if it were an extension of your body, of your hands. That way, should you meet stiff resistance, you don't let it slip, and you can still retain your firm grip on your sword. Now, I want you to make vertical swings, and count up for every swing."

The instruction would have been a lot more authentic, a lot more believable, had his sister's other hand not been busy rubbing his other sword to full arousal. Now, with both his hands gripping the practice sword and forbidden to go anywhere else, Lucina had free reign to grip his member in the same way, caressing up and down its length, her hands slick with sweat and water. "You can start now, Morgan," Lucina commanded, as she began to rub and flick the head of his cock, making him grit his teeth, his legs trembling from the position.

"O-one..." He said, swinging half-heartedly.

"Again." She whispered, squeezing a ball tightly, making him gasp. Her breath was sweet, like something flowery.

"One!" he hissed, swinging with more force. The action made him move his body, and through that, his dick, which would've flopped up and about if Lucina hadn't kept a firm hold.

"You see how stronger, how more robust your swings can get if you keep a strong hold over your weapon?" Lucina said. "Your legs, however, have lost their root. You can be sent low by a massive, more powerful swing. And with a body like yours..." His sister let his cock go, and began to massage the inside of his thighs, her fingers like soft, delicate downy wings sending thrills up his spine and making his already stiff member twitch, impatient. The slick warmth her palms left behind made his knees tremble in this rigid position even more, which she noticed. She made a shushing sound, gripping his knees and making him widen his legs-giving her more access to the whole of his crotch. She began to caress that area, as sensations like a thousand feathers running all around there made his squatting position all the more precarious. She boldly molded his balls like two pieces of dangling fruit, poking them without making it really hurt. "I'm not hearing it," she said.

"One!" he all but screamed, swinging his sword. "Two! Three!" As he went on, swinging his sword, shouting the count with every swing, focusing on winning this second phase of their game, Morgan became less and less aware of what his sister was doing to his member; all he felt down there was a melting sensation rapidly building up from the root of his cock to the tip, spreading all around his crotch until it was like his whole lower body had become just one big fireball of pleasure, all ready to explode on a moment's notice.

"Th-this is cheating," he managed to grit out, once he'd reached the count of thirty. Lucina seemed to have abandoned all pretense of training him, having not actually seen that his sword swings had not been entirely straight. He could feel her heart thrumming on his back, loud and fast, as her rapid breaths made her squashed breasts heave against him many times. Morgan looked down, saw her hands wrapped all around his member, the latter already slick and sore, primed as she pumped with ever-more speed.

"I'm..." Lucina grunted. "I'm... just... unused to this... new weapon..!"

"Liar," he said, chuckling. "You've used it many times, my dear Exalt."

"I don't hear you counting, brother mine," she said, her hot breaths practically tickling his neck. He could feel her drool, wet against his shoulder as her entranced gaze was fixed on his throbbing cock. Morgan groaned, struggling against her relentless assault, against the waves of sheer, unadulterated pleasure turning the whole region below his waist into a furnace, with all the willpower he could muster. The forest shimmered before his eyes.

"Are you giving up?" she asked, lathering his ears in her lust-filled drool. "... Come now, one more swing, and you'll win this round. One more swing, brother." He raised his hands, and when he did her speed seemed to double before his eyes, and her hand reached up inside his cloak to tweak at one of his nipples. Being manhandled in this way sent imagination after imagination coursing through the blackness behind his eyelids as he strained against the pressure to come. But he was unable to escape, unable to reposition himself to stave off the prickling sensation of an approaching climax. Her voice echoed in his mind: _give up, give up, give up..._

"Very well. I'll count down from ten. If you hold out once I've reached zero, then you'll have won today, brother." Then, putting her mouth so close to his ear, she began to count down in the hottest, most sultry voice he'd ever heard her say.

"Ten. Nine." She said this slowly, every word like butter sliming its way through the core of his being.

"Eight... Seven... Six." A little louder now, and she'd begun to use her fingers to tickle him in a place where she knew well he was sensitive.

"Five... Four... Three..." On the third, he cried out, dropping the sword with a final crack that sent thunderous rumbles through his besieged mind. It was as if his castle had finally been breached, and it only remained to defend against the onslaught of enemies pouring in. He could no longer swing to escape, to win.

It only remained to surrender. A small voice in his head repeated that word, in his sister's voice, many, many times.

"Two..." Her voice like luscious milk, reminding him of the days when all this was fresh and new, in the far future before they'd realized their blood relation. With two fingers clamped on the trunk of his member, she made rotating, squeezing motions, as if she were extracting milk from a cow.

"One..." His passion soared like a crescendo, sending his awareness to the far reaches of the sky. With it went the last vestiges of his resistance, as he finally let go of the rational part of his mind that clung to the superiority of the game, that succumbed, submitted to his sister.

"It's alright. You can cum, Morgan. Give in to your sister. Cum. Cum. Surrender to Lucina." In the space between numbers, she whispered that, or was that his imagination?

"Zero." And with that word, as if sensing his defeat, Lucina cupped both her hands against the head of his cock as the tip burst in a cloud of white, white like a flag of defeat. "Shshhh... It's alright, it's alright, that's good, you're doing great, let it all out, let your big sister take it all ..." he could hear her whisper echoing in his ragged-out mind as he came without abandon into his sister's palms, the white globules of sperm dripping out from the spaces of her fingers to coat her hands in a fine film of sperm. He felt sorry for his boys, like they were soldiers betrayed by a cowardly, useless king, convulsing in pleasure and spurting his precious essence away, sold willingly to an alluring temptress. But oh, what a temptress.

Exhaling one loud, last time after the final, defiant spurt, he lay against his sister's body, his legs no longer capable of standing after such an exertion. His knees trembled, but Lucina was able to keep him up. His penis, too.

He turned his head and met her wet kiss, his lips parting, allowing her tongue to invade, to thoroughly explore his mouth as a victorious ruler's right. She had definitely won this round, and he was gracious, even in defeat. He groaned into the kiss, and a long film of their mixed saliva bridged their lips when it ended, a bridge which Lucina sucked quickly into her own mouth as she smiled impishly at him, her eyes smug from her overwhelming win.

She unclasped her hands over his spent member, allowing a few drops of semen to stain the grass as she brought her palm to her mouth, her tongue flicking out to gather white, sticky globules into her waiting mouth. "How sad," she said, in-between gulps. "I know how much you were looking forward to that bizarre bestiality fantasy of yours."

He suddenly rose, muscles galvanized, seized her in his hands and carried her over bridal-style to the trees. His cock was still hard, raring for revenge. "You cheated," he whined, running his eyes over her bikini-clad body. "So this is payback. Don't worry, no bestiality-I'm no cheater."

Lucina giggled, making no move to escape his grasp. She pecked him on the cheek, then threw her arms around him. "Oh brother. You're ever a sore loser."

* * *

 **Hello guys, this is Jon, apologizing to those folks anxiously waiting on my other story! The short version is that a number of fellas wanted to commission me to write something for them, and I quite enthusiastically complied! Unfortunately some things fell through, which left a pretty bad taste in my mouth. But a couple of folks came through, good on them, and I can finally show their commissioned works here for all to see!**

 **A thanks to PBFlyer for commissioning this story. He's got one more commissioned for this series, so watch out! If you'd like more from this series, or a commission on another kind of work entirely, good news! I've got my commission system all set up and I'm anxious to hear from anyone wanting their own piece of personalized smut. Please PM me here, on this account or on "RHoldhous" over at archiveofourown for more details.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: This story is a work of fiction. It has many content of adult nature. If you do not want to read such content, please close your browser window or press the convenient back button.**

* * *

My Lover the Exalt, Redux

When the knock comes, her face brightens, and she runs to the door as fast as she can. And every time, after she opens the door, her face falls, disappointment quickly hidden behind a veil of serenity.

There is only one time that her face will break out into a full smile; and that time has not yet come.

"Who was that, mom?" I asked, as I thumb through the mail, daily reports and queries from the man I'd set up to replace me on Ylisse's council.

Lucina-mother-shook her head, "It was... hehehe." She looked embarrassed. "I thought somebody had knocked. Must be getting old, since I've started hearing things." She rubbed her forehead and sighed, and I could tell she was trying very hard to change the subject. "Anyway, what would you like for breakfast?"

I watched her go, feeling like so much crap. This beautiful, strong woman, who'd experienced a whole lot of war and suffering, having even lost some of her comrades, was supposed to have earned her happy ending. She had vanquished the creature from her nightmares (and also saved the world, naturally), and should have been rewarded with something more than this.

Perpetually unhappy, her heart broken, her spirits crushed.

It had been ten years since Grima died.

And ten since Dad disappeared, after promising to come back "soon". "Soon" meant something in the region of weeks, maybe months. And maybe a year, or two. Not three, not four, and definitely not ten.

It was painful watching mom wilt over the years, like a dying flower, as the world changed around her, time passing her by, as nothing changed. Her friends and comrades in the Shepherds all went off, doing their own thing, most of the time marrying and settling down to make a family, slowly drifting farther and farther from her. The only people she remained close to were myself, Grandpa and Grandma, though she saw them less and less when she quit the court some years back to go traveling, and I had to forsake my mantle as replacement Grandmaster for Dad to follow her.

We immersed ourselves in some volunteer work, cleaning up Ylisse's far flung lands of bandits. She fought so hard, so valiantly that I feared she would wear herself out. Then she spent much of last year in distant Valm, searching desperately for clues on Dad, while also pursuing her vain hope of finding him there, having lost his memory or something. It was very painful to see, watching her desperate and determined to find her answers.

But even so, even after all that, to me, she's still my beautiful, precious mom. She settled down here, at a Valmese coastal town. Grandpa understands, and the guy replacing me keeps sending me letters via pigeon, asking me for advice. I mean, I'm also keeping my ears to the ground, waiting for any sign that my good old dad's come back, like he'd promised me.

Like he'd promised Mom.

All of this is the reason why it's come to this.

I feel something burrowing under the table, then settle itself between my legs. I put down the mail and sigh, looking down to see Mom's head poking out from inside the tablecloth with a smile on her face. Her eyes shining, she tugs my trousers down with her teeth, and then uses her lips to capture and fish out my member, her lips securing the tip. A few slurps bring the thing full mast. Mom smiles, showing her appreciation by licking the underside of my cock, drawing another sigh from me.

It's become a sort of pattern now. Any time Mom feels depressed, or recalls something unpleasant, or for whatever other reason, she turns to me for comfort. One would wonder if I should feel reluctant, or be horrified by this taboo thing. Well, fuck you, whoever you are-Mom's a wonderful woman, and if it were not for the blood tying us I'd have bagged her gorgeous ass a long time ago. And our peculiar circumstances of time-travelling made us consider each other comrades, or friends. Especially for myself, who's still suffering from lingering amnesia. There was no Mom in my mind that made a point of reference to link it to this Mom in front of me, so feelings of taboo never grew. As far as I knew, this was a beautiful woman, about the same age as myself, and I would love her forever, mom or no.

She moans as she sucks on the tip of my member, swirling her tongue around and basting my length with her spit until the whole of it swam with it, gleaming in the sun. She does a little thing with her teeth, grazing the sensitive parts on my glans that curls my toes and makes me exhale loud. I comb through her blue hair, colored just the same as mine, her tongue continually caressing me. When I come, no words needed be spoken, she looks up to match my gaze, and I watch as my cock pumps her mouth fully, watch her cheeks bulge slightly, then return to normal as she swallows each drop of my potent seed with her incestuous throat.

It had all happened so silently, so quickly that neither of us couldn't even remember where we'd crossed the line from mother and son to lovers. There had been no tense moments before the affair, being attracted, confronting potentially forbidden feelings, then finally falling for and going all the way-or at least, I didn't experience any of that from my side. Maybe Mom had struggled with that, and I had been thick enough not to see it. From my end, one day Mom just became someone... "more" precious, in a way. I saw her as a woman. My love for her had been tainted by a physical desires, yet I reasoned that it didn't make it any less pure of an attraction. In any case, our first encounter had been charged, passionate, like two teenagers curious about sex and given over completely to their passions. We spent half the day fucking ourselves raw, until the end where we broke down, spooning on the bed, our minds tired and unable to comprehend the sheer magnitude of what we'd just done-the sheer perversity of our union like a drug that kept us high until the end.

Oh, there were some recriminations at the start. "Oh me, oh my", Mom hating herself, blaming herself, blaming me, for seducing or being seduced. We didn't talk a whole lot. Awkward suppers. Breakfast too. But then she came back. And came again. And came again. And again.

"What's this?" I say mockingly, pawing under the small strip of cloth serving as her underwear. Her slit makes wet sounds under my fingers. "This early, and you're already so wet? You're a slut, Lucina. Nothing more." Unable to say anything more than moan lewdly, she nods, holding on to my body for dear life. We'd long gone past the point of me considering her a mother and calling her "mom", at least in private. She's Lucina to me now. "What? Not gonna say anything? Then I guess the rumors around town are true. You're not a warrior in disguise. You're just a two-bit whore, masquerading as a strong woman. You'd spread your legs for any bloke with a decently-sized pecker."

"N-no... Morgan," she protests. "Not a whore. I'm a... haaah!" She flinches, her thighs tightening around my arm as a small orgasm shakes through her. "Haaah... haaa... no... not a whore. I'm Morgan's girl. Morgan's slut."

"Are you _kidding_ me?" I snarl, pressing my assault on her, while her cunt's still sensitive. "That boy? The one you claim is your _son_? That's beyond _repulsive,_ Lucina! You're lusting after your own flesh and blood! You really are a card-carrying, cum-guzzling _whore_!" Her shoulder shivers, and she turns her head to kiss me. It's a sign to back off on the taunts; her heart's still rather raw about cheating on her long-gone husband with her only time-displaced son. And of course I back off; I love this woman dearly. And she makes no sign of wanting to stop our depraved tryst, even spreading her legs wider, stripping off her underwear and putting her hands on the table to present her hairy sopping cunt to me.

"Take me, Morgan," she says huskily. "Momma's your woman now."

I swallow, her words making me more than a bit enthusiastic. My cock slams into her, full-force, sinking into the entrance of her womb with one strike. Then, without further ado, I withdraw, then slam forward again. And again. And again. She yelps loud, bracing herself on the table against my deep, incessant thrusts. My cock, once soaked in her spit, is now completely immersed in her lewd discharge, as my member parts her hot inner folds repeatedly, desperately. And to think, at one point some version of this pussy out there had given birth to me, and now I was pumping this version of it, desperate to put my own seed, to plant my own mark inside my own mother. The thought fuels my incestuous rampage as our mating goes full speed, her asscheeks rippling, turning red as our hips melt into each other, as the loud, distinct _slap-slap-slap_ sound echoes through our house, mixing with our voices. In some level, we are one flesh and blood-now we are united in a more carnal, more fulfilling sense, each of us completing the other in a grand and wondrous cycle.

I'd be lying if I said I had completely no reservations about this. I was fully aware that whatever feelings Mom had for me, and I for her-I was still the rebound, the convenient shoulder to cry on when Dad had disappeared on her, eventually turning into someone in whose embrace she could find comfort. In the many times I bred Mom I wondered what would happen if Dad did come back. What would we do? I always felt a pang of ill-born jealousy, a dark part wanting to keep control over Mom. She was _my_ woman now, and I'd be damned if she went running over to Dad.

Such thoughts enveloped me even in the peak of my passions, staining my bliss with dark, fevered emotions. Mom's already climaxed, her arms finally giving way from the pleasure, as her body collapses on top of the table, wholly slack. But I keep going, seizing her hips and pounding away with intensity, each thrust desperately seeking her womb. "Mother... mother..." I chant, like a spell, and in the next moment pleasure shoots through my spine as I push my glans to her very depths and cum with all the force of my pent-up passion. All my misgivings, my fears, my love, my affection, I pour all of it inside that pleasurable crucible, flooding her womb with my child-making spunk. And in the end, I white out, collapsing on top of her.

I wake, still in a daze, and find myself laid out on the carpet, resting upon Mom's lap. I look to the side and kiss the underside of her boob, before suckling idly at her teat.

"You're like a baby," she says, giggling. She rubs my head. "My precious baby." Lying here in her arms gives me a sense of peace like no other.

* * *

When the knock comes, her face brightens, and she runs to the door as fast as she can. She is excited, and she moves fast, even with the presence of the swell on her belly.

She opens the door.

* * *

 **Second one commissioned by PBflyer, thanks. Any extra words are entirely on me.**

 **If you'd like more from this series, or a commission on another kind of work entirely, good news! I've got my commission system all set up and I'm anxious to hear from anyone wanting their own piece of personalized smut. Please PM me here.  
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	3. Chapter 3

**Note: This story is a work of fiction. It has many content of adult nature. If you do not want to read such content, please close your browser window or press the convenient back button.**

* * *

 **Morgan/Noire**

"See you later, honey," said Owain. He made an extravagant bow. "I hope to glimpse your fair visage in my dreams tonight, and for every night I am far from your embrace." Then his eyes went to the swell of her belly, and he bowed once more. "And goodbye, sweet child. I shall do honor to you and to our family, or my name is not Owain of Ylisse!"

"You'd better hurry," Noire said, rolling her eyes. "Or they're going to leave you behind."

"They wouldn't," said Morgan, brushing the morning toast from his lips. "His mother's just gonna drag him by his ears if he dares show up late."

Owain blanched. "Gack! I must go then. I shall leave it all to you, my dear brother-in-law!"

"Of course, of course," I said, waving my hands. "Have a safe trip, Owain. And good luck on the mission."

After a fond moment shared between husband and wife, Owain mounted his horse and trotted down the lane. The clouds of dust signalling his departure had not yet settled when Morgan dragged his sister back into the house, slammed the door, and pushed her against the wall. Their lips sought each other furiously, hungrily, their tongues warring for dominance.

Morgan leaned down between his sister's impressive boobs and breathed deep. "Ahh... it's been so long. I have missed you, Noire."

"It has only been two months," said Noire, between heated gasps as Morgan fiddled with the straps and ties on her dress. He reached her underwear, pulling them down hastily to reveal her moist snatch, fluids already dripping down her thighs.

"Oh you certainly seem eager, my sister." He pulled up her shirt to kiss her faint swell. "What will our little baby think?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Noire whispered, even as she seized onto her brother's hair as he kissed and licked all over her belly. "I'm sorry, dear baby, for being such a lewd mother..."

"For being such an incestuous cow..." said Morgan, lathering her fluids onto her thighs. He slapped her butt lightly, drawing a wet, perverted sound that echoed through the empty house. "From the looks of it, you were wet even before we finished breakfast. Dirty, dirty cock-hungry sow."

"Yes! Mmph! So dirty! Oh gods!" Noire's eyes lit up with delight, as if a great and sumptuous feast lay before her, when Morgan pulled his pants down and kicked them aside, revealing his hot and turgid member. Her wet pussy lips twitched, aching to be claimed by his manhood. Drawing on his prodigious strength, Morgan lifted her by her ass as she looped her legs around him. "It's been so long, Morgan... Such agony..." She kissed his cheek. "I've missed you greatly, my brother."

"I don't give a damn about this Noire," Morgan snapped, pressing his face to hers his eyes boring into hers and making her heart skip a beat. "Where is it? Where is the whore?"

A moment passed, and then her legs locked even tighter around Morgan. "You asked and I'm here, bro," said Noire, her voice deeper, shriller. She cackled. "Shove your meat into me, now there's a good lad. Fuck me raw, little bro. Or are you not man enough?"

Morgan growled, an animal uncaged, his penis sinking into Noire in a single thrust. Almost immediately he began pulling in and out, pounding his sister against the wall repeatedly. The passionate cries and grunts of their fierce, frantic lovemaking reverberated throughout the empty house, their unborn child the only witness to this raw, incestuous tryst. Many slick drops of Noire's arousal stained the wooden floor with every raw plunge of Morgan's member, clear evidence of their sinful congress.

Many had been the treacherous whispers against them, which the couple bore with stoic silence as they worked to defeat Grima in this past. They were close, for siblings, some would say unnaturally close; but who could blame them? In the future, their father had disappeared, and their mother had secluded herself from her children in her grief. There was no one to turn to but each other, and before long an innocent love grew.

Morgan hated it when even their own comrades asked about their closeness. Traitors, all of them. He had no choice but to allow Noire's courting by Owain, knowing it was the only way to keep the busybodies off their backs. He agonized over another man claiming his sister, but he was safe in the knowledge that his body and soul remained his, that their secret affair continued despite her marriage to Owain.

And now their forbidden love had borne fruit, making Morgan happy beyond all. Two months he had languished at the capital, assisting his father in everything. And now-

"Yes, yes, come on, break me, brother. Give me your cum. Give it!" Noire practically shrieked, her arms clutching onto his shoulders as if she were about to fall. Morgan obliged, enduring the caresses of her inner folds as he sought the warmth of her uttermost depths with frenzied abandon. He was close now, so close, and he claimed Noire's nipples, biting on them so hard he thought milk would come rushing out.

"Ngh! Grgh!" Words were bereft of coherence as he came, exploding inside his sister with great intensity. She convulsed around him, wracked by an orgasm of her own, her nails digging deep into his back. Exhausted, his face sank onto her chest, as they both gasped and wheezed, as they were clad in the afterglow of their passion.

Noire set herself down, the lust in her eyes glowing, unsated. She threw off the last of her clothes, flinging them carelessly to the ground, before undressing Morgan in turn. With his cock still in her-hardening back to life with each passing second-the coupled waddled through the house and up the stairs, siblings glued literally at the hip, their lips mashing together unashamedly. They spent the rest of the day, and much of the night in this haze of passion, until there was no inch of the house where their adultery had not taken place, not even the bed Owain and Noire shared.

* * *

 **And another one commissioned by PBflyer. Thank you.  
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 **If you'd like more from this series, or a commission on another kind of work entirely, good news! Just shoot me a message here on fanfiction dot net or over at theruffpusherdottumblrdotcom.  
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